


D’Artagnan gets wet.

by RitaMarx



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: ::big sigh and shakes head::, D’Artagnan really needs to be more careful, Gen, Only he could manage to do this.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:49:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6229933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RitaMarx/pseuds/RitaMarx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D’Artagnan falls down an embankment.  One shot.  Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	D’Artagnan gets wet.

**Author's Note:**

> This plot bunny came to me while I was actually, in fact, washing my hair. Originally, it was meant to be an introduction of an OC (female) to the boys. I found a way to make it work with D’Artagnan, instead of the OFC. ::Yay::
> 
> My generic disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don’t own it. If you don’t recognize it, I probably do own it. Not making any $$$ off this.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # 

Looking at Aramis, Porthos sighed loudly and shook his head, “Only he could go fetch some water and wind up falling into a river.” 

Aramis lightly chuckled as Athos rolled his eyes in agreement. 

D’Artagnan clambered out of the river and up the tall bank. Thankfully, his leathers protected him from all the branches and tree roots sticking out of the bluff. Otherwise, he thought, he surely would be sporting some of Aramis’ elegant stitchery by the end of the day. 

From through his water-logged hair, hanging in chunks across his face, he sees a gloved hand stretch towards him. Grabbing it, he is pulled up the last few feet and guided to safety away from the crumbling bank. 

He nods his thanks to Athos and staggers into the small clearing they’ve chosen as their campsite for the evening. It looks like he is wearing half the river bank. He grimaces as he feels the mud squish between his toes. Huffing, he scrapes the mud off his legs, arms and finally off his doublet and face. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I look like a half-drowned dog, don’t I?” 

Porthos chuckled. “Well, actually, judging by your size, I’d say more like a half-drowned puppy.” 

The young Musketeer glared at him as a corner of his mouth twitched. 

Raising his hands he began to finger-comb his sodden hair. 

“Aw look, now the puppy is grooming ‘imself!” 

D’Artagnan stopped cold with his fingers curled and hair covering his eyes. Again, he glared at the huge man smirking at his expense. Baring his teeth, he growled and air-scratched his claws in his direction. 

Bending at the waist, he threw his drippy hair forward and began vigorously shaking his head from side to side to fling the water out. Flipping his head up, he gives Porthos the glare-of-death. “Don’t you dare say a word,” he warns, with one finger in the air. 

Unable to contain himself any more, Aramis blurts out, “Now he looks like a wet puppy trying to shake off the water.” 

D’Artagnan glared at him and snarled. 

Not wanting to be left out of the playful ribbing of their little brother, Athos chimed in, “Maybe we should call him, Fluffy.” 

Birds exploded from the trees and all the woodland creatures froze in fear as a loud roar echoed through the woods.


End file.
